


"Curse" Is a Four-Letter Word

by amythis



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: F/M, Menstrual Makeouts, Menstrual Sex, Season Eight semi-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25909114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amythis/pseuds/amythis
Summary: At that time of the month, Lenny is a lot better than a hot water bottle.
Relationships: Laverne DeFazio/Lenny Kosnowski
Comments: 24
Kudos: 5





	1. Curse of the Mummy's Maid of Honor

Laverne sighed and decided she was going to have to get used to this. For over a decade, since she moved in with Shirley, they had been inseparable and their menstrual cycles had synced up. Even when they were at odds with each other, their ovaries had formed and maintained an unbreakable alliance.

Until Shirley got engaged to Walter. Even though Laverne arguably had undergone more stress over the wedding, her curse came like clockwork, while Shirley was off on her honeymoon ovulating like crazy. It was a pity that Walter was suffering an all-over rash and was covered head to toe in bandages, but that wasn't Laverne's problem.

Right now, her more immediate concern was that her period started right after she got home from the hospital wedding and her cramps were bad. She got the hot water bottle and curled up with it on the couch.

She thought but didn't say out loud, "What a pain," because she knew better than to tempt a Squiggman hello. As it was, a squigless Lenny still came in without knocking.

"That was some crazy wedding, huh?"

"Uh huh."

He plopped himself into a chair and asked, "Whatcha doing, Laverne?"

Not wanting to discuss her womanly cycle with anyone but Shirley or Edna, she said, "I've got a little stomach ache."

He nodded. "Yeah, hospital food is not the best idea for a wedding banquet. Squiggy says he's never gonna get married in a hospital."

"Good plan. Where is he by the way?"

"Out with a nurse. He offered to double, but I wanted to check to make sure you're not feeling too lonely and spinsterish."

"Thanks, Len."

"You're welcome. You want me to get you Alka-Seltzer or somethin'?"

"No, that's OK."

"I just don't like to see you suffer."

"You're sweet."

"Nah, it's just you look almost ugly." She grimaced. "Yeah, like that."

"I appreciate you stopping by, but—" She broke off as another cramp tightened like a belt.

"Laverne? Should I take you back to the hospital?"

The poor boy looked scared. "Len, can you sit next to me and hold my hand?"

"Sure." He came over and sat close enough to take her hand. "Let me know if you think you're gonna puke, so I can duck."

"I won't puke," she said and squeezed his hand. Then she moved their hands to the bottom of her stomach. His warmth was better than the hot water bottle, so she used her other hand to move that out of the way.

"Does this help your stomach ache?"

"Uh huh." She moved her hand onto his arm. "Can you rub a little?"

"That won't stir up your dinner more?"

"I don't think so."

Lenny rubbed cautiously at first, but she whispered, "More and harder," and she raised her blouse a little.

His blue eyes widened, but he started really massaging her stomach, his long fingers working against her skin. It felt like he was untying knots inside her, and she wanted even more, but he wasn't her boyfriend and she already felt like she was using him. Not that she asked him to stop.

When her stomach was hardly cramping and his hand was starting to, he stopped and asked, "Better?"

"Uh huh." She felt a little dazed.

"Good." He stood up. "Next time, just tell me when it's that time of the month, and I'll make sure not to play guitar that day."

He was gone before she could say goodbye or thanks.


	2. Curse of the Tender Heart

Lenny was playing guitar one evening when someone knocked at his front door. He said, "Come in," without asking who it was, because, one, he'd looked at the calendar that morning, and two, he recognized the knock.

Sure enough, Laverne came in and said, "Hey, Lenny. Oh, you're playing guitar."

"Just started. I mean tonight. I got my first guitar when I was thirteen and heard Johnnie Ray sing 'Cry.' "

"I remember." She shut the door and came over to the table, but she didn't sit down. "I noticed the ice cream truck is gone."

"Yeah, Squiggy is out winning and dining a client." Since she apparently wasn't going to take the other chair, he set his guitar in it. Then he looked at her and observed, "You're still in your work clothes."

"Yeah, I just got home."

"So Shirley's home, too?"

"Yeah, she's on the phone with Walter."

"Oh. Um, you don't have a stomach ache or something, do you?"

"Or something," she said and wandered over to his record collection.

"I don't have the Johnnie Ray single anymore."

"I figured. I'm looking for an instrumental."

"Does 'Wipe Out' count except for the laugh and the title?"

"Actually, you got a whole instrumental album?"

"Yeah, _Herb Alpert's Ninth_."

"Perfect." She found the record and put it on.

"Um, are you gonna give me a dance lesson?"

"No, I want you to do me a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

She walked slowly back to him, undoing her Bardwell's blazer along the way. "You were so sweet last time of the month, and my breasts feel all achy and tender."

He blinked, and not just because she said the B-word. "You want me to touch 'em? Most girls say they're too sensitive. I mean at that time of the month."

She started undoing the buttons on her almost-silk red blouse. "Yeah, sometimes I feel that way, but I've been thinking about your big, warm, sweet hands all day."

He gulped. "You have?"

"Yes, please touch me, Len."

"Come here," he rasped.

She stood before him, blazer and blouse still on but open, exposing a front-clasping bra.

"You've been thinking about this since you got dressed this morning." It wasn't a question.

She blushed and nodded. "Maybe a little before then."

He reached for the clasp. "You know I've been thinking about it a lot longer than that."

He didn't feel like she was using him. Yes, he wanted to be her boyfriend, maybe her husband, but he wanted to make out with her and he wanted to make her feel good.

He undid the clasp and slid both hands into the cups.

"Yes, Len," she sighed.

Her breasts looked a little bigger than he'd always imagined, but maybe they were hormone-swollen. The auroras or whatever they were called, the tan circles around the hard little nipple tips, were engorgeous and sensitive to the slightest touch. His touches were light at first, but she soon encouraged him to squeeze and tweak.

"Yes, Len!" she gasped, and he understood why she put the music on. She didn't want the neighbors, especially Shirley across the hall, to hear her. He wondered if he should turn up the volume.

"Please kiss them, Len," she murmured, and he knew he wasn't going to get out of that chair.

His kisses were feather-light at first, his eyes watching hers half close, the green so warm. And her skin was so warm against his hands, his lips.

He shut his own eyes and licked her nipples and her cleavage, and all over in between. He knew he might not get another chance for at least a month, but he wasn't going to rush this. He waited until she guided his head to suck one of her swollen, aching tits.

He felt like he was drinking in her excess hormones, like something was flowing between them, although he was bathing her chest in his saliva. It was also weirdly spiritual, but this was 1967, when lines blurred more easily than in the past. Certainly Laverne was moaning God's name as much as Lenny's by then.

But when she started coming, she pulled away, mumbled sorry, and ran into his bathroom. He leaned back in his chair, feeling both tingly and drained. And hard, so hard.

When she returned, she was all buttoned up again. "I've gotta get back and start dinner before Shirl gets suspicious."

"What did you tell her about coming over here?"

"I said you wanted to play me an album you just bought."

He shook his head. He understood why she wouldn't run and tell Shirley what he'd just done for her, but he didn't see why she wanted to sneak around like this. Not that he was going to tell Squiggy of course.

She kissed his cheek and then left. He'd thought he'd spent a long time pleasuring her, but it wasn't until the door closed behind her that the phonograph needle reached the center of Side One.


	3. Curse of the Spin Cycle

For the first time in two years, Laverne was doing the laundry with no Bardwell's blazers. She and Shirley had to turn in their blazers when they got fired. And soon Laverne would have maternity clothes in the load she took to the laundry room. Not her own, since her monthly visitor continued on schedule, but Shirley's. They wouldn't have periods in sync again for the next several months. Shirley still lived with her, since Walter was an Army medic. And, yeah, eventually there would be baby clothes to wash.

Today though, Laverne had to wash some of her clothes that were stained by her period. She had always been ashamed when she leaked, although when she had once whispered to Edna about it in the laundry room back on Knapp Street, her new stepmother said, "Honey, it's natural, and it happens to every woman."

This was the third day and the heaviest part of her flow was over. Unfortunately, Laverne was incredibly horny. She couldn't do anything about it in her apartment right then because Shirley had invited Carmine over to tell him she was pregnant. (He'd reacted surprisingly well to her engagement and marriage, but Shirley still wanted to approach the subject cautiously.)

Laverne loaded the washer and put in the quarter. Then as the machine started to vibrate, she looked at it and went, "Hmmm."

She knew this was risky, but if she could just do it for a few minutes, she might get some release. So she climbed on top of the washer and felt the vibrations through her pajama bottoms and panties. She thought but didn't say, "So crazy."

The door opened and Lenny said, "Hi, Laverne, whatcha up to?"

"Oh, you know, just hanging out," she said as casually as she could. She had of course considered asking his help again, but she didn't want this to get to be a habit. It wasn't fair to him, or her, when they were supposed to be just friends.

Not only that, but she had just started seeing a new fella. They'd flirted through the Bardwell's window, which was not why she got fired, although it was connected. Anyway, she really liked Mike but it was too soon to show him her true self and scare him off. She definitely wasn't going to ask him to make out with her during her period.

"Can I hang out with you?" Lenny asked.

She could've said no, or at least suggested they not hang out in the laundry room, but she said, "OK."

He grinned, set down his laundry basket, and closed and locked the door. She realized that he didn't want them to be disturbed, and that she should've locked the door herself. But then it would've been just her and the washer. And if he was better than a vacuum cleaner and a hot water bottle, he was probably better than a washing machine.

She held out her arms and, since it wasn't a very big laundry room, he quickly went into them. She wrapped one hand around his neck and the other around his back. They started French-kissing immediately. His tongue was hot against hers and she wondered if he'd get hard like last time.

Her hand wandered down his back and to his tushie.

He groaned and thrust against her. His mouth darted for her ear, gasping, "Let me inside you, Laverne!"

She was startled by his directness, and she wanted to say yes, but she couldn't. "No, Len, it would be too messy and disgusting."

"No, it wouldn't. I luh—"

She put two fingers to his lips. "Len, we can't."

He kissed her fingertips. "Laverne, we have to do something."

She hesitated. "We could rub together with our clothes on." He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts.

He also hesitated, like it would be too much and not enough. "OK," he breathed.

So she wrapped her legs around his slender hips. He was so deliciously hard, she could feel it through their clothes.

"You must be so wet," he murmured, then licked her fingers.

She blushed and hid her face against his neck. She'd never felt so vulnerable and exposed, not even during sex. If she didn't trust Lenny so much, she would've had to run from the room. Instead she clung to him.

And meanwhile, the washer continued to vibrate against her tushie. He set up a counter-rhythm of thrusts and rubs, and she rolled around between them, like it was a major-appliance orgy.

One of his hands undid enough buttons on her pajama top to get at her chest, while the other stroked her hair. One of her hands let his mouth continue to have its way with her, while the other squeezed his bottom, just in case he had any plans on leaving any time soon.

"God, Len!"

Hand-lick, lick, lick, "Gotta get rid of all your aches and pains, Laverne," lick, lick, lick.

She thought of how she'd had to leave him with Ragusa-sized blue balls last time, and she wanted him to come this time, even if it might leave stains. Well, this was a laundry room.

She wanted him inside her, but she was sure that was just the hormones. It was so unfair. Why did she have to be so icky and sticky, so bloody and ugly, when she really wanted to attract someone? When she needed release and pleasure.

Lenny wasn't easily disgusted, and she knew he almost always wanted her. She was being lazy, picking low-hanging fruit. Well-hung fruit it felt like.

"Crazy!" she gasped. This was Lenny, her most loyal friend, and she was treating him like Rhonda treated her studs.

"Good, I wanna drive you crazy."

She didn't explain, because the spin cycle started and there was nowhere else she wanted to be than tangled up in hormones and Kosnowski, unsure anymore what was clean and what was dirty.

She tried to be quiet when she came, wanting to verbally gush, too. "Lenny, this is so....Much!" she murmured in his ear.

"Oh, pretty Laverne," Lenny whispered, like he meant it.

"Len, you make me feel...." Her breath quickened, as if trying to catch up to the washer.

As he came, Lenny bit his own hand, the one he took off her hair, since the hand on her chest wasn't through squeezing and stroking. Blue eyes rolling back, lanky body shuddering like the washer, hardness trying to push through four layers of clothing and a sanitary pad. She came hard that time, knowing she had wrecked another pair of panties.

When she saw Carmine in the hallway ten minutes later, he didn't seem to notice she was wandering the building in her pajamas and a bit of a daze. He looked a little dazed himself as he said, "Well, it looks like Shirl is fertile."

"Good for her," Laverne said, and carried her load of wet laundry into her apartment. She hadn't wanted to risk using the dryer.


	4. Curse of Indoor Plumbing

A few nights after Lenny had tried to sleep in Laverne's living room with her father, Carmine, Rhonda, and of course Squiggy, he returned to check on Laverne. She seemed to be doing better about Shirley running off with Walter when he got shipped out. Before Laverne kicked them all out of her apartment, she read out loud the real sweet note Shirley left. He didn't know if Laverne still wanted time to herself but he'd looked at the calendar and decided to drop by.

He found her on the couch, watching TV and curled up around a hot water bottle. He took the arm of the couch, like this was Milwaukee. "Whatcha watchin', Laverne?"

"Television."

He nodded. "So, um, I was wonderin'...."

She put her hand on his arm. "Look, Len, I think I know what you're gonna say, but we can't keep doing this."

"Doin' what?" When in doubt, it was best to play dumb.

"Fooling around every month."

"You liked it, didn't you?"

"Of course, Len, but, well, we're not dating or anything."

He decided not to point out that that wasn't his fault. "So why don't you call up one of your boyfriends when it's that time of the month?"

She hesitated and then admitted, "I don't feel as comfortable around them as I do around you."

He frowned. "Oh, I get it. I'm like an old sock."

She started stroking his arm. "No, Len, you're very sweet and sexy."

"Sexy?"

"Well, yeah, like that look in your eyes when you locked us in the laundry room."

"Laverne, why can't we...?"

"Because I don't wanna wreck our friendship over hormones."

"Is that all it is on your side, you just want me when you have the curse?" It hurt but he may as well hear it and get it over with.

"I don't usually want you in this crazy way."

That gave him hope. "Well, it's not like I want you in a crazy way all the time, like when I was a teenager. My hormones are calmer and I've got responsibilities and other interests."

She clutched his arm. "Then why can't you leave me alone and not tempt me?"

"Laverne, the first time, I didn't know what I was walking into. The second time, you went to me and offered your boobs. The third time, I really did have to do laundry. And tonight, well, Shirley is gone and you don't have to hide this from her no more."

She started stroking his arm again. "It's not just her I was hiding from. Maybe I've been hiding from myself."

"Hiding me?"

"No, hiding myself from myself."

"That's heavy," he said, trying to sound as profound as she was.

She laughed. "You big dope!" She tugged his arm so that he fell off the couch's arm and onto her. They looked into each other's eyes until blue melted into green, and then they started madly making out.

First they necked and then he shifted so that he could rub his crotch against hers, pushing the hot water bottle out of the way. But after a couple of minutes, Laverne whined, "Lenny, no, it's too frustrating."

"I'll do it till we come, like last time."

"No, I mean, it makes me want more."

"Then let me inside you."

"Len, I told you, it's too messy."

"Not if we did it in the shower," he said as he thought of it.

She stared up at him. "Are you serious?"

"As heartburn."

She whispered, "What about the blood?"

"It just means you can have babies. Um, I mean someday." He blushed a little, more when she softly kissed his Adam's apple.

"Stand up, Len."

He did and then she sat up. She held out her hands and he knew to tug her to her feet. She led him wordlessly by the hand up the stairs and into her bathroom.

It was surprisingly easy to get Laverne out of her Dodgers jersey and bra. He stroked her lovely, swollen, achy breasts. But when his hand went to the button of her loosest jeans, she said, "Wait, Len."

He stepped back and said, "OK, my turn." He stripped off his white T-shirt and kicked off his shoes. He decided to keep going until she made him stop. His socks, jeans, and boxers quickly landed on her bathroom floor. He straightened up and smiled shyly.

She murmured, "This is what you'd look like if you were handsome," and moved close enough to give him a big smooch.

He ran his fingers through her hair as she played with his erection, their tongues snuggling and wrestling. When he moved one hand slowly down her torso to the jeans button, she didn't stop him this time.

When she was in just her panties, she self-consciously broke away and turned on both taps of the shower. She shucked her panties and stepped under the spray.

He stepped in and grabbed the bar of soap. He lathered up his hands and then ran them along Laverne's warm, soft, and mostly olive skin.

She bit her lip when he rubbed between her legs, but she didn't stop him. He knew she felt funny about him seeing and touching her curse, but this kind of blood didn't bother him. He was glad she was a woman, and this came with the territory.

He kissed her forehead. "It's OK, Laverne, it's just me."

She kissed his Adam's apple again. "I'm glad."

He hoped that part of why she was glad was because he was a man. He wanted her to play with his erection some more, but maybe it was just as well that he concentrate on her very womanly body.

He rubbed and scrubbed between her legs, feeling how warm, soft, and wet she was. Blood ran down her legs, and eventually cum. By then she was hugging him with her head against his chest, so she couldn't see what he was sure was a look of adoration and wonder on his face. She must've, however, felt his cock flex against her now not so crampy stomach.

She let go and looked up with unusually vulnerable green eyes, as if she trusted him completely to never deliberately hurt her (as too many people had over the years, despite her toughness). "Lenny Honey, can you go get a condom out of the medicine cabinet?"

"Sure, Laverne." He wanted to be bare inside her and he wouldn't have minded a painlessly bloodied dick in the cause of love, but they weren't virgins, so this was safer. Plus, he didn't know her birth control method but it probably wasn't the Pill, since her cycle seemed really regular. (He didn't use to track it, beyond a dim awareness of her being moodier at certain times, although that couldn't have all been hormonal.)

He got out of the shower stall and washed his hands at her sink. Then he opened the cabinet door and saw the condom box in plain sight. He would tease her later about so quickly adapting to living alone, without having to hide things from Shirley, but for now he didn't want to add to her embarrassment. He took out a rubber and rolled it on. Then he stepped back into the shower stall.

"So do you wanna slouch or support me?"

He frowned, remembering that he wasn't exactly the first tall guy she'd been with. "You've done this before," he said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

He thought she was reaching for his hand but her hand landed on his dick. "Never during my monthlies and never with a cutie like this fella."

Some guys would've felt like she was belittling their manhood, but Mr. Happy looked up at them with his one eye like he was thinking _I love this lady more than ever! I wanna go home with her and never leave!_

Lenny swallowed. "Um, maybe I could slouch against the wall and hold one of your legs."

"That works," she said.

So he leaned against a wall of the stall and she stood on one set of tiptoes, while her other thigh wrapped around his hip. He held onto that leg while he used his other hand to carefully guide himself into the cursed yet blessed promised land.

She rolled her butt like the talented amateur dancer that she was, adjusting the angle and almost making his knees buckle. "Yeah," she murmured, "I think this is gonna work just fine."

"Lavernelavernelaverne!" Sweet fuck, they were fucking! Yes, it was also lovemaking, because he kissed her hair and stroked her spine, but Mr. Happy started thrusting fast and deep.

"God, Len, this is just what I need! More!"

This angle was perfect, everything was perfect, even with the mess. He was inside Laverne and she needed him as much as he needed her.

They ground together and she seemed to like it even when his thrusts were extra hard. It felt like only moments later that he came.

He carefully set her down. "Sorry I didn't last longer."

"It still helped. And maybe we can try again later."

His eyebrows went up. "You mean it?"

"Of course, Len. You're a lot cuter and funner than a hot water bottle."

"Thanks, Laverne," he said without sarcasm.

"Thank you, for everything. Now give me a few minutes of privacy and then we can cuddle in bed."

"OK." He rinsed off real quick and then kissed her cheek before heading into her bedroom. He now noticed that she'd tried to connect her bed to Shirley's but didn't know how. He used his mechanical knowledge to mate the beds into one big bed. Then he lay down and looked up at the ceiling, wondering if Laverne would ever be interested in him when she didn't have her curse.

She came in wearing a towel. He hoped she'd be impressed by the bed, but she tsk-tsked and grabbed a tissue, saying, "Lenny, you can't just leave condoms lying on the floor." She picked it up with a tissue and threw it away, then knelt on the bed and washed her hands at the bedroom sink that he'd had to work around.

"Sorry, I guess it fell off when I wasn't lookin'."

She shook her head. "I guess I'm lucky you're not squeamish. Otherwise, you'd be too disgusted to fool around with me once a month."

"It's an honor to fool around with you anytime."

"Oh, Len, you big doe— Hey, how are you getting the beds to stay together like this?"

"I'm not as dumb as I look."

She lay down and snuggled up to him, still wearing the towel. "Yeah, for a guy who used to fall off roofs...."

They kissed softly on the lips and he had the feeling she might find other uses for him twenty-five days out of thirty.


End file.
